Cold Comfort
by joy4957
Summary: Tony is not having a great day ...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Tony dropped his backpack by his desk, shrugged off his jacket, and stared out the window balefully. It was a wet, grey, chilly November day, the kind of day that was better suited for snuggling at home with a couple good movies and a hot pizza. It wasn't helping his developing headache, and his chest was already a little tight. Damn _y pestis_ always made it harder for him to cope with damp weather. With a sigh he powered up his computer and took a sip of the hot tea he'd brought with him.

Kate breezed in moments later and dropped into her chair with a gusty sigh, fingering her disheveled hair. "Wow, it's really a lousy day out there!"

Tony eyed her with a smirk. "Yeah, not a good hair day, is it?"

Kate glared at him. "Well, if you didn't have five pounds of gel in your hair, maybe you'd have a problem, too!" she snarked back. She pulled out her compact to begin damage control on her unruly hair but stopped when Tony began to cough harshly, eying him uncertainly. "You okay?"

"Don't try to change the subject," Tony managed to choke out. "Now if you …" he paused when he spotted McGee entering the bullpen. "Hey, let's ask McHair here if this dreary weather causes him any problems." 

"Huh?" McGee said, looking warily at Tony as he settled at his desk.

"We were just discussing the bad weather and how it can affect one's hair."

McGee blinked. "Don't really know. It's never been a problem for me."

"Oh, c'mon, you must have times when damp weather like this causes your hair to frizz or go flat or something," Kate argued.

McGee considered that for a moment and then shook his head. "No, can't say that has happened to me."

"Well, how about we take a cup of water and dump it on your head to test that?" Tony suggested, standing with an anticipatory grin.

"And why don't we let Mother Nature figure it out for all of us?" Gibbs asked, rounding the corner with his usual impeccable timing.

"Oh, hi, Boss!" Tony said brightly, giving a small hacking cough as he sank back down to his chair.

Gibbs slowed, eying his SFA. "You sick?"

Tony shook his head, shooting a quick glare at Kate, who was unsuccessfully hiding a grin. "No, boss, I'm fine. Maybe just a little cold."

"Well, don't breathe on us," Gibbs ordered, grabbing his gear from his desk. "Gear up, we have a dead body in Rock Creek Park."

"Great," Tony muttered as he ran to the elevator. Why couldn't they get the call on a nice sunny day?

Arriving at the park, they found the victim in a cordoned off area. The local police pointed out the person who had stumbled upon the body and then quickly turned the crime scene over to them and hurried back to their cars, happy to relinquish the work to NCIS. Gibbs surveyed the scene critically, noting with satisfaction that the LEOs did not appear to have contaminated the area. "Kate, interview the witness. McGee, sweep the area for any forensics and take photos. DiNozzo, laser and sketch." The agents dutifully headed out to their assigned tasks.

Ducky sighed as he viewed the body of a young, auburn-haired man, sprawled untidily on his back on the ground, his khaki uniform soaked in blood. Carefully extracting the victim's wallet from the man's pocket, he handed it over to Gibbs and then began a quick exam of the body.

"Petty Officer Damien Mitchell," Gibbs murmured as he looked through the wallet's ID. He squatted down by Ducky. "Any ideas on what happened?"

"Well, of course, I have to get him back to autopsy, but it appears he has been stabbed, at least twice." He eased back the torn shirt, observing the bloody chest. "And it looks like he at least put up a fight." He picked up the dead petty officer's right hand, where bruised knuckles were apparent, then pointed to an incipient bruise developing under his left eye.

"Time?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky shot him an exasperated look. "Really, Jethro, I can't tell just by looking at him, and this damp weather has cooled his body. But rigor has not yet set in and an early guess would be likely no more than two hours ago." He looked back down at the body, adding gently, "You'll tell me more when we get back to autopsy, won't you, Petty Officer?"

Gibbs' lips twitched and he stood.

"Jethro, I'd like to get him back to the barn sooner rather than later. This weather is not helping to preserve the evidence."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, Duck, it's not doing us any favors. I'll have McGee take some pictures now so you can wrap him up and head out."

Tony climbed up on a small rock face, slippery in the damp weather, and snugged his jacket around him tighter, pausing to cough roughly for a minute. The miserable weather wasn't helping anything, either his cold or the crime scene. He opened his sketch pad and eyed the scene below him. The slightly higher vantage point gave him a good perspective of the area, and he quickly began sketching the scene.

Ducky had quickly and efficiently preserved what evidence he could before wrapping up the body for transport. He was already safely out of the raw, misty weather, having left in the truck with the dead body of Petty Officer Mitchell a few minutes earlier. Tony watched wistfully as Kate and McGee left, too, to go interview Mitchell's commanding officer, leaving just Tony to finish his sketching of the area, and Gibbs, who was waiting impatiently for him.

"Finished yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled, looking up at his SFA. He wanted to get inside the warm car and head back to the bullpen. Also, he could see that Tony's cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes a little glassy, the frequent coughs not unnoticed. Gibbs' lips tightened. He knew he'd have to battle Tony to get him to go right home and take care of that cold, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let him make things worse by insisting on working when he clearly needed rest.

"Done, Boss," Tony replied, a little hoarsely, closing his sketch pad. Something glinted near his feet and curious, he bent down to examine it. A gold button, stamped with an anchor, glittered dully. "Got something here, Boss," he called, carefully slipping the button into an evidence baggie. Coughing, he straightened, feeling a little dizzy. Damn cold. And then suddenly all hell broke loose and Tony found himself falling …


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The unmistakable crack of a gunshot split the air, a bullet pinging off the boulder near Tony's left shoulder and Tony recoiled, slipping and falling to the ground hard. Gibbs cursed and quickly grabbed Tony's arm, jerking him upright and pulling him to at least some marginal safety in a nearby grove of trees, his other hand pulling out his Sig, his blue eyes intently searching for the sniper.

Tony rubbed his temples hard, trying to erase the pounding headache that was threatening to make him nauseous, before palming his own Sig. He glanced over at his boss, who was crouched like him behind a large tree as more bullets flew perilously close by. Getting shot at by a sniper as they examined the crime scene was beyond irritating, he concluded sourly. This day just kept getting better and better.

"Anything, Boss?" he asked, his own eyes scanning the area.

"Over by that rock outcropping," Gibbs replied tersely. "Looks like one person."

A few quiet moments passed, and Tony thought he heard an indistinct whisper, _Stay with me_. Huh? Puzzled, he looked at Gibbs, who was focused on the sniper's position and apparently hadn't said anything. Tony shook his head; it must have been just a rustling of wet leaves and his imagination. He gave himself a small impatient shake and cautiously edged around the tree to take a look. He recoiled and quickly drew back as another shot resounded, chipping off the bark of the tree. Both he and Gibbs responded by shooting in the direction of the sniper, the shots echoing throughout the thankfully deserted park.

"Son of a …" Tony swore. "Must be the killer. Why did he come back to the scene?" 

"We'll ask him when we get him," Gibbs growled. "Maybe he thought he left something incriminating behind."

Hmm, maybe the button he had just picked up, Tony wondered. He moved stiffly, rapidly getting tired of the situation. Crouching like this was making his joints ache and his breathing a bit difficult. He heard the distant sound of an alarm – no, it must be a siren – good, the police were on their way. He flinched and looked around sharply when he thought he heard a very faint voice saying urgently, "_Just hang on!_"

Gibbs slanted him a questioning look. "You okay, DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, sure, Boss," Tony replied with more weariness than he planned. "Just wanna get this over with."

"Then let's make that happen. You pin him down with gunfire and distract him as I get in place behind that tree over there," Gibbs said, pointing to a tree not 20 feet away. "We can corner him from two sides then."

"Sounds good," Tony agreed, pausing to wipe his blurring eyes. Why was he so exhausted? Again he thought he heard a distant voice, strained yet demanding, say "_C'mon, fight this!_" God, was he hallucinating? He shook his throbbing head angrily. Now was most definitely not the time to fall apart.

Gibbs looked at him assessingly, frowning. "You up for this?"

"On your six, Boss!" Tony immediately answered, cursing to himself for his weakness.

Gibbs said quietly, "Okay then. On three. One – two – three." At that Tony began a fierce barrage of gunfire as Gibbs took off. Then, as if in painful slow motion, he saw Gibbs trip and stumble on some wet leaves, and as he struggled to regain his footing, he took two shots to his chest, falling limply to the ground as blood spurted from his torn chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"NO!" screamed Tony, immediately surging to his feet and moving from the safety of the tree, heedless of his own vulnerability out in the open. He started running towards the shooter's location, rage and fear fueling his mad dash, taking deadly aim at the sniper. The sniper, startled by Tony's action, dropped his guard for just a moment, but it was enough. Tony's bullet went true, hitting him between the eyes. The man dropped soundlessly, sprawling to the cold ground like a broken doll.

Tony had eyes only for Gibbs. He spun around and raced to his side. Dropping to his knees, he stared in horror at the ghastly sight. Gibbs was sprawled on his back, gasping for air, his hand reaching weakly for Tony. He looked at Tony in mute appeal, his blue eyes already glazing. Tony felt like he couldn't catch his own breath as he tore open Gibbs' jacket and shirt and looked at the bloody wounds. And even as he leaned forward to press hard on the wounds, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood, a trickle of frothy blood escaped from the side of Gibbs' mouth and Tony saw his chest movement slow and, after a couple stuttering breaths, he stopped breathing.

"Boss!" Tony cried, frantically checking for a heartbeat and feeling its ominously slowing pace. Gibbs' crystal eyes became dull and unfocused as Tony tried feverishly for several minutes to breathe life into him. "God, no, please! C'mon, fight, you tough marine!" But the body beneath his hands was unmoving and growing cold, and Tony finally sank back in defeat, tears streaming down his face. He felt dead himself, somehow, despite the searing pain of the loss of his boss, his mentor, his friend, his surrogate father. He would welcome numbness right now. "Boss!" he cried again brokenly, shutting his eyes tightly against the sight of the still body in front of him. His breathing became raspy and difficult and his chest felt tight as he strained to inhale, his head aching ferociously.

_Breathe_, he told himself fiercely. _Just_ –

"Breathe, dammit! DiNozzo, just relax and breathe normally. I'm right here." Tony groaned and forced his eyes open, startled at the sight before him. Gibbs was next to him, leaning slightly over him, his intense blue eyes focused on Tony's face.

"B-Boss?" Tony's eyes roamed dazedly, and he realized he was in a bed … and, judging by the stark white walls and medicinal smell, a hospital, to boot. Wait, wasn't he just at the park? Confused, his eyes returned to Gibbs, who relaxed his tense shoulders slightly with a small smile.

"Got it in one," Gibbs replied lightly, but Tony could see strain on his tired face.

Tony's hand suddenly darted out and gripped Gibbs' hand tightly. "Gibbs! You're not dead!"

"Uh, no, I'm not," Gibbs returned, giving Tony a curious look. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Tony sank back on the pillows wearily. "It was just a dream," he murmured in a wondering voice. "God, it seemed so real. I thought …" he flushed and let go of Gibbs' hand. "Never mind. Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs arched an eyebrow at him but merely gave a faint smile. "Nothing to be sorry about, DiNozzo." He reached forward and placed his hand briefly on Tony's forehead, giving a satisfied grunt after confirming that the flaming heat of fever was really, finally gone. Tony closed his eyes and relaxed under his comforting touch, causing Gibbs to smile fondly and gently ruffle his hair before removing his hand.

Tony gave a weak cough and shifted restlessly, raising his hand to the annoying nasal cannula that he just noticed was stuck in his nose. Gibbs captured his hand and returned it to his side, patting it lightly. "Just leave that alone," he admonished. "You need it." He added softly, "How to you feel?"

"Fi –" Tony began, then stopped at the glare Gibbs was sending him. He gave a sigh and did a mental checklist, and then admitted reluctantly, "Uh … head hurts, but not too bad. Feel really tired and achy. Thirsty, too."

"Well, I can help with that," Gibbs said, pouring some water into a small plastic cup and offering him some sips, which Tony took gratefully. As he reached for the cup to assist, Tony realized he had an IV in his left arm, too. Dammit.

Tony frowned, his mind fruitlessly searching. "What – what happened? Why am I in the hospital?"

Gibbs nodded. "Didn't think you remembered. We were out in the field, in Rock Creek Park, investigating the death of a petty officer. You had a bad cold – well, that's what we thought – and the weather was cold and damp. You suddenly keeled over after climbing up an embankment and picking up a piece of evidence. You had trouble breathing and spiked a high fever. It's been two days of bouts of delirium and fever and waiting for you to wake up." Gibbs sighed, suddenly looking weary and a little haunted over the memory. He was relieved to see his SFA alert and breathing well, his cheeks no longer flushed with fever. When Tony had abruptly collapsed at the park, Gibbs had been startled and alarmed, his gut twisting in fear. Unable to rouse him, he'd picked up Tony's limp form and carried him to the car, racing with focused urgency to the hospital, feeling the ominous heat radiating from his agent as Tony slumped against him, his breaths rasping in stuttering gasps. And when the fever worsened and he didn't wake up for hours after arriving at the hospital …

Tony prompted softly, "Boss?"

Gibbs straightened his shoulders decisively. "Umm … anyway, turns out your cold was actually the flu, and with your compromised lungs it hit you harder than most. You should have been home in bed, not out working in the wet weather." He shot a steely glare at Tony. "Next time, DiNozzo, speak up if you're not feeling well. I don't want to go through this again!"

"Got it, Boss," Tony murmured. He thought about his nightmare and added in a low voice, "Me neither." He stretched his aching muscles and gave a yawn, then asked, "I don't feel too bad, so when can I get out of here?"

"Not before the doctor tells you!" Gibbs replied firmly, fixing him with a stern look.

"Aww, Boss …" Tony whined.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs growled warningly.

"But what about the case?" Tony protested hoarsely. "You need me! There's a murderer to be caught!"

Gibbs shrugged. "We solved it while you were sleeping. Got the killer and Kate and McGee are just tying up the loose ends."

Tony sank back, feeling frustrated and out of sorts. He hadn't helped the team with the case, and they had solved it quickly without him. Maybe he wasn't really needed …? Gibbs shook his head with a sigh, correctly reading his thoughts, and added, "Don't worry, you helped. That button you picked up was key in providing DNA that helped us seal the case."

"Oh." Tony thought about that for a moment, then said, "But I can still –"

"Still nothing! Your only job now is just to rest and get better, and I don't want you trying to talk the doctors into letting you out of here or back to work until they say you're ready!"

Tony's mouth opened, but before he could utter a word, Gibbs continued, "And if you try to get around that somehow, I will restrict you to desk duty and cold cases for the entire winter."

Tony subsided with a mutinous pout and Gibbs suppressed a grin. He settled back in the ugly orange chair that was placed close to the bed and reached for his neglected coffee cup. "You hungry? I can call for the nurse to bring in some food."

"Uh … A little. Thanks." Tony gave another yawn and blinked tiredly at his boss.

"Okay," Gibbs nodded, reaching forward to press the call button. "In the meantime, get some rest. Ducky, Abby and the others will be by soon."

Tony wearily settled back on the pillows with a soft exhale and closed his eyes. As he sank into a healing sleep, he thought he felt Gibbs tug the blanket up a little more snugly around his shoulders. He gave a contented sigh, a faint smile curving his lips. It was nice to be taken care of, and cared for. Gibbs was here, and he was fine. All was right with the world again.

The End


End file.
